Typhoon
by OmangoOlemonadeO
Summary: Hong Kong wasn't sure if that was a seedy smirk over Arthur's face. Was it just his mind playing tricks on him? One shot. England x Hong Kong. T to M rated. Just in case.


**Typhoon**

Hetalia Pairing: England x Hong Kong

Human names (Arthur and Horace) as well as country names used.

Rated: T (might have to go up, let me know!)

I really don't own Hetalia. I would have made Hong Kong an anime character if I did. Hehe!

Hope you'll enjoy this!

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><p>It's that time of the year again – summer in Hong Kong – typhoon season.<p>

And Hong Kong himself, trapped hopelessly between a random wall in his house and a certain someone who is notorious for being drunk, thought that he, too, may have been swept into yet another typhoon-like affair that would leave him with all the sweetness he could ever ask for, and all the heartbroken moments he could ever imagine having.

Yes, he had told Arthur not to touch him. Especially not…not… _there. _And why was he finding himself burying his face into England's hair? _It smelt of roses_, Horace later recalled.

And then all he remembered was squealing - as the blond traced his tongue over his collarbone – which only served to arouse the older man more than ever, who started 'attacking' him elsewhere too.

No, Horace wasn't expecting this. All he wanted when he saw England walking in unannounced, soaked to the sole of his shoes from accidentally forgetting to bring an umbrella when he walked in the pouring rain (oh, how un-gentlemanly), was to make him a cup of Earl Grey. To sit him down and talk to him. To get him to the shower. To warm him up. To snuggle up with him a little. To play with his hair a little.

…to love him for a little while. Just a little.

But somehow all that –_ originally, intentionally, possibly – _fraternal love had gone out the window when England decided to speak.

'I missed you,' he looked Hong Kong in the eye with all the sincerity in the world as he closed the distance between them with a step forward and placed his hands on the boy's fragile shoulders.

'Um. Me too, sir,' Horace stuttered as he realised the way in which he addressed England, something that had become his verbal tick over the years, 'Er, I mean. It's good to see you.'

Hong Kong wasn't sure if that was a seedy smirk over Arthur's face. Was it just his mind playing tricks on him?

'Still calling me that, eh?' England extended a finger and traced softly over Horace's cheeks, down to his chin, and gently tilting it up.

'S-sorry.'

'Oh no. Don't be sorry,' _Oh boy, it was definitely a smirk,_ 'You just need to do for me what you would for a master.'

'But I-'

'Or you can stay there and _let_ your master do whatever he wants…_to you._'

'I-….Mmm!'

Next thing Hong Kong knew (or felt) was England's lips on his. _Wetness_ was all he could remember…taste. _It's the rain, _he thought.

He refused to think that the tears that fell silently down his face had anything to contribute to it.

He tried rejecting him. He tried refusing his demands (European nations and their stamina). But he couldn't. Who was he to talk, anyway? He was just England's little servant for those few passionate hours. And servants never talk, the only time they use their mouth is to _serve._

'Ohbloodyhell you're so hot.' Arthur's sultry remark received a little yelp from the smaller man.

Arthur was now looking down at him, his hands holding those of the younger man's up beside his head.

'Don't you struggle now, Horace.'

Another yelp.

'Don't move. That's my job.'

He screamed. Which only made the older man on top of him grunt. In unison.

'Thank you, love,' England kissed him, 'I've been wanting you for so long.'

Hong Kong only smiled. And he thought Arthur should realise how much it should mean to him to see the Asian boy smile. Directly at him.

Arthur left a gentle peck on Horace's forehead before reclining onto the bed and hugged the small boy from behind.

'Hmm. I love you. You feel _so_…_good._'

'Arthur?' Hong Kong asked tentatively a few moments later, seeing as the European nation stopped raising his opinion on his attractiveness.

…

_Oh, he's asleep already._

_Huh. What was I thinking? Staying up and watching me sleep? Who would bother? _

Hong Kong didn't sleep. He let his mind wander instead. He wondered how many times the Englishman had said complimented someone's sexuality like that with a heart-wrenchingly sweet little declaration of love at the end in the past few days to his 'love' whom he missed so much that wasn't Horace himself. He wondered who he had said it to, and for that matter…_how many _of them did he say it to?

But it wasn't like it mattered. Arthur's account of …_romantic endeavours_ has not been a secret among the nations. In all honestly it is most definitely an open secret.

It wasn't like Horace – who had only met Arthur a couple of centuries ago – had much say in Arthur's affairs.

But why did it bother him so much?

He knew. He'd expected all along. As someone centuries older than he is, Arthur must have had a lot of _experience_. And relationships. Those that he still has today.

Horace leaned further back into Arthur's embrace, allowing the warmth of his bare chest protect him from the cold, empty hole in his heart. He treasured this too much to let go. He gripped the edge of the blanket that was sliding away and pulled it up.

He needed more warmth.

He thought loving Arthur would provide him with enough. But most obviously it wasn't exactly doing so.

Sure, he'd known he should just have been through with him. They have dragged this on for far too long – even after Horace and his family have reunited.

But it cannot be Horace's fault that Arthur would remember (or care enough) to send him roses every Valentine's Day ever since. And what fault is Horace's when a private helicopter with a subtly painted Union Jack on its side would drop by his mansion every 1st of July, and minutes later, a blond would saunter in casually with that same old charming smile – as if he was trying to tell Horace …trying to tell _himself_ that even though Hong Kong has officially been returned…

'…You're still mine.'

The Asian boy whispered breathlessly against Arthur's strong arms that wrapped around his slender body unconsciously tighter than before. It was as if he could see the pain in Hong Kong's eyes in that split moment before he drifted off to sleep too, with him; his secret lover. His open secret.

Like a typhoon that sweeps him away every single time.

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><p><em>AN:_

_History essay is postponed due to the production of this. I'm so sorry I haven't been updating my stories. I'm so busy at school I can only write one-shots like these now. Still, I hope you liked it! And please leave me with some feedback and constructive criticism._

_Thank you so much for reading! My love for this pairing can...just...never be extinguished._

_…oh and, should I have rated this M?_

_~much love, OmangoOlemonadeO_


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